December 09, 2025

It was one of those early-winter weeks when the skis are fast, the hearts are faster, and the inboxes at federation HQ are smoking. Sweden’s wax truck smells like confidence, Russia’s athletes are refreshing their email, and Davos is setting the table with altitude and espresso.

First, the glow-up of the season: Moa Ilar skied straight through the self-help section and into the podium club, cheerfully noting it’s “not so bad to be injured” when the comeback comes with medals. She stacked podiums from Gällivare to Trondheim and right now looks like optimism on carbon. If you’re wondering how that happens, she explained it all here: Ilar’s breakthrough, via an inconvenient foot.

Meanwhile, Sweden named its Davos squad with the calm air of a bakery before the lunch rush—and then mentioned the Olympic selection that follows. Suddenly everyone started counting seconds like they were baguettes in the oven. Several headliners—Ebba Andersson, Frida Karlsson, William Poromaa—are skipping the sprint-heavy weekend, which is either supreme confidence or a shared hatred of high-altitude lactic acid. Either way, the call sheet is deep and nervy: “a little extra nerves” in Davos and also, why those stars are sitting this one out: the case of the missing Swedes.

Across the border and several spreadsheets away, FIS is busy checking who’s neutral enough to race. The process sounds like applying to a very strict university that also swabs your social media. Expect “a few” Russians to be cleared for Davos, possibly including Saveliy Korostelev, who just outleaned Bolshunov at home and is eyeing Switzerland like a man who already packed his hand luggage. The mechanics are here: how neutrality gets stamped; and the rumor mill is grinding: several Russians may race in Davos and Korostelev stands by for boarding.

Not all Russian news is tidy: Aleksandr Bolshunov managed a shove, a suspension, and a soliloquy, and now the team atmosphere is about as smooth as an iced rutted corner. Even if CAS opened a door, some athletes may find the hinges bolted. The whole saga is here: a rift in Russia’s ranks.

Speaking of corners, Trondheim’s inclusivity experiment put very new skiers on a very real World Cup course, which produced bravery, a broken pole, and a debate about safety vs. accessibility. Athletes were polite until they weren’t; the video made the rounds; the rulebook got a hard stare. Catch both sides of the snowplow here: anger over unusual World Cup scenes and the follow-up from Mika Vermeulen: “has nothing to do in the World Cup”.

And in biathlon, the soap opera writers are earning overtime. Dorothea Wierer opened what she says is her final season by winning in Östersund by three-tenths, the sort of margin you measure with a laser pointer and a prayer. It felt like a decade folding onto one finish line. Read the goosebumps here: Wierer’s perfect opener.

Hochfilzen, for its part, turned spring into winter overnight by rolling out 15,000 cubic meters of snow like a white carpet. If the races aren’t crisp, it won’t be for lack of refrigeration: Hochfilzen is ready. Germany is crossing fingers that Franziska Preuß and Selina Grotian can race, and they’ve shuffled a couple roster spots just in case: Germany’s hopeful call-ups and the status update: Preuß’s return uncertain.

Somewhere between all that, Alvar Myhlback grabbed a World Cup sprint podium, then politely declined Davos to chase long-distance glory, which is either genius periodization or a teenager’s idea of fun. Either way, the team boss is pleased: “we’ve been hoping for this”.

So the week rolls on: skis are waxed, nerves are braced, and the start gates in Davos are waiting like slightly judgmental turnstiles. May your climbs be short, your downhills honest, and your inboxes bear nothing but start lists and love notes.